


Designated Driver

by murdergatsby



Series: Flufftober 2018 [13]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Hale & Sheriff Stilinski Bonding, Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, First Kiss, M/M, Responsible Derek Hale, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-06 08:09:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16384430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murdergatsby/pseuds/murdergatsby
Summary: Derek drives Stiles home after he gets too drunk at a party. Noah watches the mess unfold in his driveway.





	Designated Driver

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cutepoison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutepoison/gifts).



> i'm doing catch up for flufftober~~  
> [(more info)](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1148888)
> 
> The prompt for Oct. 17 was _fun_.  
>  This was a prompt I was already _planning_ on doing, so. Here this is. Gifted to [cutepoison]() because he inspired a good portion of this. He knows what he did.
> 
> As usual, this has no placement on the canon timeline. Because I don't know how to write that.

The first step Stiles made out of Derek’s car thrust the two of them into immediate disaster. His foot landed funny on the pavement, and had him taking a heavy _tip_ into the frame of the car door. Derek _just_ missed being able to catch him, as he had sensed Stiles’ inability to handle his own departure and was already on his way to that side of the car.

Thankfully, following the initial “Ow.” sound Stiles made when his head made contact with metal, Stiles only laughed.

He was fine. If Derek could just _get him in the front door_ he’d most likely be _fine_ until morning.

Derek lifted Stiles from his seat, and supported him by the waist as they made their way up the driveway, past the Sheriff’s car, and up into the lawn. Stiles went along with their journey until the very moment he didn’t- stamping both his feet into the ground very suddenly, and going rigid in Derek’s arms.

“Stiles-” Derek complained, before Stiles could start whatever it was he was planning to start.

Derek could continue moving him if he wanted to; he knew that. He wasn't above lifting Stiles from the ground, bridal style. _Or,_ he thought, _flipped over my shoulder if he doesn’t knock this off._ However, he would much prefer if Stiles had just _walked_ for him, and didn’t force him to carry him up to his room.

“I don’t want to go home yet.” Stiles whined. He attempted to push Derek away with a weak slap to his chest.

Derek, of course, held his ground.

“You need to go home, Stiles.” Derek replied. “You’re _already_ home.” Pleading. “The door is right there.”

Derek gestured at the door, and then tried to push Stiles towards it again. Stiles still didn’t move, and instead kept looking at Derek’s mouth. It was clear to Derek that Stiles wasn’t living in the same realm he was, currently. He wasn’t hearing a word Derek was saying.

“I‘ve changed my mind.” Stiles said, just as disjointed from conversation as Derek expected him too be.

“About what?” Derek responded, feeling himself emotionally flatline for the 9th time that night.

“Your teeth.” Stiles _explained_. As if that explained anything.

Derek blinked rapidly. “ _What?_ ”

“I like your teeth.” Stiles restated. His gaze lifted, and he found Derek’s eyes; his stern, judgemental eyes. “Is that weird?” He asked. He sounded sincere. He sounded sober.

“Yeah.” Derek said, nodding. “It’s weir-”

Stiles interrupted him by grabbing both sides of Derek’s face, and holding him still while he kissed him. It only lasted a moment- a moment longer than it should have- before Derek took Stiles’ face in his hands too, pushing him away.

Derek held him at arm's length, stuck in his eyes. Stiles’ expression hadn’t changed from before the kiss; he still looked kind of peaceful, kind of altered, and _not_ as though he had just kissed his friend _without the slightest_ of warning.

Derek, however, was wide eyed and pressed with contemplation.

The kiss hadn’t been bad, despite the way Stiles tasted like cheap alcohol _and_ _only cheap alcohol_. It got his heart pounding, and it had him wishing he wasn’t the only thing holding Stiles up; it had him wishing he felt it would be okay to kiss Stiles again, and wishing that Stiles’ choice to kiss him wasn’t entirely inspired by the exact reason he _shouldn’t_ let this happen.

It took Derek much too long to decide what to do.

_God dammit._

Derek flipped Stiles around so that Stiles’ back was to him. He held Stiles’ arms behind his back so that he could physically steer him in the direction of his front door. He kicked at Stiles’ feet to inspire him to move, and Stiles did so with a defeated groan.

“Next time, I’m just going to take your keys and leave you there.” Derek mumbled in Stiles’ ear.

“Promises, promises.” Stiles replied, with lighthearted sarcasm. It was as if the kiss has never happened.

As they reached the porch, the door swung open with an ominous creak. In the well-lit entry space, Noah stood in a robe with his arms crossed comfortably over his chest. He looked tired, but not too tired to understand the full of the situation he was being greeted with at this ungodly hour. He stared them down in silence, and Derek knew he had seen his son kiss him just moments ago on the front lawn.

“Oh, fucking shit.” Stiles exclaimed, blissfully unaware of the tension amongst the three of them. Derek gave him his arms back, and Stiles nearly fell forward while trying to express his dry disinterest in seeing his father’s face. “I didn’t know you were home.”

Both Derek and Noah spoke in-time with each other; Noah, stating that his car was parked in front of the house, and Derek reminding Stiles that they had _walked past_ his car in order to get to where they are now.

Stiles shrugged, feeling no shame for his lack of awareness.

Gently, Noah took Stiles by the arm and pulled him over the threshold. He told him to go to his room, and that he’d be up to talk to him soon. Stiles waved him off like he didn’t care, but headed the direction Noah had requested of him. The entire time they interacted, however, Noah had his attention on Derek.

Derek knew he didn’t need the permission to excuse himself, but he _was_ waiting for it. He needed to know whether or not this event was going to make it so he needed to tiptoe around Noah, and whether or not this drunk _idiot_ had just made his life a handful harder.

“Thank you for returning my son.” Noah said. His tone was dry- sarcastic, in respect to his son, but sincere in the way it came for Derek. He was _thankful_ that Derek had brought him home, and hadn’t let him attempt to drive.

Derek hummed and nodded in response.

“Most people would say, _you're welcome,_ here.” Noah added. He sustained his intensity and tone.

Derek averted his eyes. “You're welcome.” He said.

“Derek,” Noah began. “You’re fine.”

Derek looked back up just in time to watch a light hearted smile break over Noah’s lips. He felt himself relax.

Noah shook his head and put a hand on the door to close it, turning away before he was done speaking. “Have a good night.” He muttered.

“You too.” Derek replied.

Noah waved his hand out in Derek’s direction, similarly to the way Stiles had done to him. “Yeah.” He said. The end of the word faded off, as he knew his night was far from over.


End file.
